I hate winter. I say that with passion. I'm seventeen, I don't want to be wasting my life away indoors while the rain washes the time by. Each droplet that falls is time I could be enjoying my life. At the moment I guess no one is enjoying theirs, well, not in this town. There are some kids that don't get to enjoy their lives, they have it stolen away from them. I guess if they made it through, they wouldn't be complaining about the rain, they'd be living every moment to the max, dancing like the sun's shining. I haven't been close to death, that's why I take my life for granted. If you're close to losing something, you treat it with more care. That's a harsh reality. I suppose you could compare it to love.
My parents divorced when I was 12. I was old enough to understand. Dad spent most of his time away from home, working offshore. He hardly spent time with us. Me and my brother, Jack, spent most of our days helping mum with jobs around the house. Rarely we'd get birthday or Christmas presents from him, not even cards. The excuse would always be
"I didn't have time." or
"I was busy, Ash- I'm sorry."
The night my mum decided to get a divorce I sat at the top of the stairs listening. He begged. He told her he'd be a better husband, a better father. He was inches from losing something. That's when you realise how lucky you were.
I've lost a lot of things. I have, in a sense, lost my childhood. After dad left, mum didn't cope well. She would drown whatever emotion she had in a bottle of vodka and I was left to tidy up the mess she left. She loved him. Nothing she or anyone else says can deny that. You don't spend half your life with someone and then suddenly fall out of love with them- it doesn't happen. Not only did the relationship between me and my dad grow weaker, but so did the relationship between me and mum. I could never forgive her for what she did, and I probably never will- it haunts me to this day.
I hate thinking about the past, but it gives me the encouragement to keep going, like now. Now, I have the urge to go running, to not care about anything, to live. With that thought in my mind, I stretch off the end of my bed, and I reach out for my battered trainers in the corner of my room. The little balance and coordination I have, I tumble to the ground, with, eh-em, minor damage. Dragging myself to where they are placed, I tugged my trainers on; with little less enthusiasm and effort than before. With no questions from Mum, and slow steps, I headed out to rain, and disapointment.
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When the Nights Get Longer
Mystery / ThrillerAs the nights get darker and the days get shorter, the worry of local kidnappings, over the past 5 years, hangs over the parents' shoulders of Lockmouth. No bodies have ever been recovered nor have any traces of evidence been found. When another chi...
